


Us Each Our Own

by Lise



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Background Character Death, Betrayal, Female Friendship, Gen, POV Female Character, aredhel and galadriel aren't really friends but maybe, feanorians suck text it, the ships are on fire and no one is happy, this fic has no plot so don't look for one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The fire visible on the horizon seemed to burn for an eternity.</i>
</p>
<p>In the quiet after betrayal, the two granddaughters of Finwë talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Us Each Our Own

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the incomparable [elvenpiratelady](http://elvenpiratelady.livejournal.com), who requested any number of things starring ladies. I chose to go with these two, thinking "hey, after all, they must have spent some time together with the whole Helcaraxë debacle." (Aredhel/Celegorm snuck in there, as it tends to. Should I be sorry about that?)

The fire visible on the horizon seemed to burn for an eternity. 

She watched it, eyes open and unpricked by tears, letting it blaze in her mind. Fingon had raged like a storm for hours, but even his tempest had blown itself to nothing by now. He was silent now, face set in a sort of bitter, determined anger that was a poor mask for pain. 

There was a strange, dead sort of calm to all of them. The bleak cold of understanding. 

_You were a credulous fool,_ Aredhel thought. _Did you think…what did you think? That you would come first?_

Behind her, Aredhel heard the whisper of bare feet on sand, and tensed. Not her brothers. They knew better than to come and find her just now, while her temper was still as ablaze as the ships. The ships stolen from the Teleri, for which they had killed and damned themselves.

“Did you see this?” she asked without turning. For a moment, Aredhel thought she would say nothing. Remain silent and aloof and distant as ever, and she was prepared to turn on her in anger. _Don’t you dare tell me what I already know. Don’t you dare._

“No,” Galadriel said quietly. “I didn’t see this.” Aredhel had half wanted her to say yes, half wanted her to sound triumphant at how wrong they’d been. She wanted someone to direct her anger at, someone at whom she could rage, but her cousin just sounded tired. Tired and disappointed. 

“No _I told you so?_ ” Aredhel said, and knew it was cruel, could hear it in her own voice but couldn’t bite it back. 

Galadriel sighed. “Irissë-”

“You never had any love for them,” she said, spitefully. “Do not pretend to understand how I feel.”

“That’s not true.” Galadriel’s voice hardened. “They are my cousins as much as yours. You cannot tell me I do not feel this betrayal as keenly as you do.”

_I can,_ she thought ferociously, _I can and I will._ They’d spoken at Alqualonde, after, just briefly. He’d looked pale and sick and unsure, but had smiled to see her, if only barely, both of them full of shame, both avoiding each others’ eyes. But he’d embraced her. Said, so quietly, _nothing makes sense anymore, I don’t see why this…_

But he hadn’t finished the sentence. Hadn’t spoken a word to her of planned treachery. Had not even blinked as he said that soon they would be gone from these shores, and whatever else, couldn’t she not wait to see these new lands…

“Are you going to turn back?” she challenged, turning finally. Galadriel’s face was pale and tense. “Turukano thinks that we should. _They turned their backs on us. Why shouldn’t we…_ ”

“I was never going for their sake,” Galadriel said. “Were you?” 

Aredhel felt a flash of anger. “Don’t you _dare_ judge me, cousin. You have no idea-”

Galadriel’s eyes dropped away. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.” She paused a long moment, and then said, quieter, “I’m sorry.”

Aredhel blinked, faintly startled. Galadriel apologized seldom, at least in so many words – she rarely seemed to feel the need to. Confident and self righteous to the point that it sometimes infuriated Aredhel, especially because she was usually right. Right now, though, her cousin’s hands were twisting together, a gesture of uncertainty. 

“I thought you might want a friend,” she said, voice almost small. _We were never friends_ , Aredhel had the cruel urge to snap, and it wouldn’t have been a lie. But she couldn’t make herself say it. With everything…she could not be unkind. 

Rumor said that Galadriel had drawn blade to defend her mother’s people; that she had fought with such ferocity that trained men had shied from the fire in her eyes. Aredhel thought of Fingon heaving behind the tents, his horrified whisper, _I thought, I thought…_

She sank to the sand. Across the water, the underbelly of the clouds was touched with red. “I can’t believe they would do this,” she said. _I am angry,_ she reminded herself. _Angry. Hold to that_. “What did they think we would do – turn back? Turn on them and forget all memory of our grandfather-”

After a moment, Galadriel sat beside her. “I don’t know. I wish I had an explanation. Not just for you…for me. For…all of this, really.”

Aredhel took a slow breath and let it out. “It does all…seem a bit like a bad dream, sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Galadriel hugged her knees to her chest. The posture made her look young, reminded Aredhel of how old she really was. Not very. “Less than I would like.”

“I’m sorry,” Aredhel said, after a moment’s silence. “For…I know none of this can be easy for you. Your father…”

“He wasn’t angry,” Galadriel said, chin on her knees, looking out at the water. “If anything, just…disappointed. And I wonder if he knew, and wanted us to see…”

_Blood,_ Aredhel thought. _Death._

“I catch myself thinking,” Galadriel went on, even more lowly, “That the Valar could have stopped the slaughter at Alqualondë. With all their power, could they not have reached out and ended it? Unless somehow they wished not to. But why, then, why would they do such a thing? But such thoughts, they’re…I don’t want them.”

Aredhel shrugged. “Maybe it’s as Fëanáro said. They don’t care for us. For anything but their own whims.” She saw Galadriel’s lips thin.

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Why?” Aredhel asked dully. “Because you must not? Because you need to think that there’s a reason for all of this? Maybe there isn’t. Maybe it’s just – oh, I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t matter.” _You are angry,_ she told herself, feeling an ache start at the back of her eyes. _Remember that, remember it, if you cry it will become screaming and you are a daughter of the house of Finwë._ She rubbed her face. “—we can’t go back. Even Turukano knows that, in his heart.” Their father had already made up his mind. She’d seen it on his face, in his eyes, beneath the fury and the hurt.

Galadriel nodded, slowly. “Even if…besides. Going back would be…giving up. Proving them right.” She jerked her head in the direction of the still-burning fire, the funeral for their trust. “We have a right to this fight. Moringotto is the world’s enemy, not just Fëanáro’s.”

“As if they have a hope of victory without our aid,” Aredhel said ferociously. “They, alone, will barely be a sting to the Dark One’s hand.” Her eyes flashed to him again. His bright eyes, his reckless foolhardiness. _I hope he dies,_ she thought savagely, and then, almost immediately, _no. Let him be safe._

_At least let me kill him myself._

Galadriel bowed her head. “They will regret this,” she said softly, “before the end.” 

“Too damn right they will,” Aredhel said, though something in the tone of her cousin’s voice made her want to shiver. “I’ll see to it they do.”

Galadriel smiled a little bit, though the expression was sad. “If anyone could persuade any of that line to regret anything…it would, I think, be you.”

Aredhel laughed, a little bitterly. “Would I could have done it sooner.”

Galadriel shook her head. “There’s no use blaming anyone but them.”

_But I don’t want to,_ Aredhel thought. _I want to think this is a mistake. I want to think I could have changed it, if I had only seen. They’re my family. My best friends. He would have been my lover. How can I hate…_ but even in this strange moment between them, she couldn’t say that. Galadriel wouldn’t understand. “I wish I could,” she said, without meaning to. 

Galadriel was quiet for a few long moments, and then said, just as quietly, “So do I.” 

They moved a little closer together, their shoulders just brushing. Silent, simply…feeling. Listening to the waves. Watching the fires, finally starting to die. 

_Are you thinking of me,_ Aredhel wondered. _Are you looking across the water, or to the stars, and thinking of me?_

_I hope you are. I hope it hurts._

The air was starting to turn cold. A quiet wind blew off the water, and Aredhel imagined it smelled like smoke. Galadriel shuddered violently. “I can’t help but think,” she said, and her voice quavered on the edge of breaking. “Can’t help but think that there’s going to be so much worse to come. That this is only the beginning. You heard – _tears unnumbered._ ” 

Aredhel reached out a hand and took Galadriel’s that lay trembling on one of her knees. She squeezed it once. “And if it does?” she said, with defiance she wasn’t sure she felt. “We will stand. Stand and fight, and face what comes.”

After a moment, Galadriel’s fingers curled around hers. “Yes,” she said, very quietly, and then a little louder. “Yes.” She drew herself up straight, and turned her head again, her pale eyes meeting Aredhel’s. “We are of the house of Finwë. Whatever comes, that will not change, and we will stay strong. You and I, Ireth.”

* * *

Turgon’s wailing screams had died, now faded to silent sobs into Aredhel’s shoulder. The ice underneath them cracked and groaned as though it could hardly bear their weight and the weight of grief now twice over. _Arakano,_ she thought, _and now Elenwë. Who else…_

_(I will survive this.)_

Galadriel’s hand that fell on her shoulder was ghost-light. 

“How much will they take from us?” she asked, unsure who she was even referring to. “How much more do we have to give?”

If her cousin replied, it was lost on the howling wind, the ice wind clawing at her hair, freezing tears to ice on her cheeks.


End file.
